Superheroes
by loveyourbiggestfan
Summary: For lack of better title. Arc I: Teenage delinquents, stolen cans of tuna, blondes who read minds, sickos who smile too much, a guy who figures out he's invincible, and ... his sidekick. You know, the usual. R&R.
1. I: Dundas Street

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**I know, I really shouldn't start other things before finishing things, but it sort of popped into my head and wrote itself. Seriously, I don't even know where I'm going with this. But that happens alot to me, huh? **

**Well, I have a good feeling this story will be in arcs. Maybe a few chapters in an arc? So don't freak if your favorite character isn't mentioned yet. They will be eventually, in future arcs. Just so things don't get mixed-up. **

**It gets better later, this chapter's just to introduce things and see how that turns out. ;D Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own TDI.**

* * *

_How did we get here? _That was the one thing they wanted to know, standing on the same rooftop as an armed criminal at 2am in the morning. Much to their dismay their memory of the events leading up to this didn't help explain any of it. The situation seemed obscure, and they all just wanted to go home and sleep.

Pfft, that wasn't happening anytime soon, or at least it didn't seem like it.

Although she'd tell him differently, he had this gut feeling he knew he messed up, somewhere along the way. Maybe if he'd done the opposite or nothing at all, none of this would've even _happened._ Or at least they wouldn't be where they were now.

Stupid.

The punk grinned. He shot a bullet into the sky, and they watched as the sparks flew, taking a good step back. "Hmph."

They weren't allowed to run. It was as if they were frozen in place, mostly, or at least in a compelling enough trance to keep them from escaping. _How did we get here? _They'd tried to stop thinking that, but that was just as impossible.

All of a sudden the helicopters came, circling the area they were glued to, focusing their lights toward him. Their trance broke slightly, but not by much.

Duncan seemed worried. At first, until he began to laugh out of the blue, leaving the officers stunned.

"A shame it had to end this way, huh?" His statement clung, while he slowly took a step backwards, off the building, into thin air.

--

With the package tucked firmly underneath her sweats, and the keys jingling in her pocket, Bridgette strutted along the familiar streets of Downtown Toronto, humming that one song she'd heard on the radio. Something about kryptonite and rockstars. She couldn't say it was her particular taste, but it was one of those days when nothing could go wrong, so you had to at least see past those kind of things. Her motto was to make the most out of them.

The streets were bare, and her breath remained coolly bitter due to the coffee she had this morning. She wasn't completely used to this. Until she'd promised herself merely two weeks ago, she'd never really gotten up 'til twelve in the afternoon. And that was only when she didn't pop pills the night previously.

9am, Tuesday morning. Bridgette was proud of herself.

She walked around the corner and sighed as she continued down the sidewalk. It had become her routine. For today she was almost there, just a little later than usual.

And when she got there, she discovered she was actually, to put it simply, right on time.

The Eagles were trespassing again, and the Condors were angry, but that was to be expected. In her opinion the alleyway was big enough for the both of them, whether the Condors actually did call it first or not. And anyway, she was there when they'd first found it, and none of them really bothered until other gangs started to show interest.

Somewhere between the punches thrown and the mockery increasing, Bridgette stepped in.

It didn't take long for them to notice. They were expecting her and besides, who couldn't notice Bridgette?

She was the one girl who could get her point across _and_ the reason any of them were still alive. Also, she was quite pretty.

"Sorry I'm late," Bridgette shrugged then lowered her eyes towards both sides. Most of the Eagles swallowed, hard. The Condors just snickered, usually.

What seemed long ago was really just a month or two (possible longer), when she'd been part of them. Yes, she was ashamed now. But awhile before she had a common sense knocked into her she felt like she was on top. Nowadays she felt as if it was her job to watch out for what she was, keeping peace with everybody. But the Condors wanted her back, and didn't have a problem telling her that.

Marcus, her obnoxious pre-leader that she not-so-secretly hated with passion, smirked, "Change your mind yet, Bee?"

They used to call her Bee.

"I wouldn't be counting on it." Now it was the Eagles' turn to snicker. Hell broke loose once more, but that was also to be expected.

Bridgette cleared her throat. "I have a peace offering."

Both sides turned heads, suddenly interested.

She glanced at the time, for some reason remembering she was already two hours late for her first day of school. _Whatever_, she thought, _that could wait_. She then raised her clump of old sweatshirt, revealing in her hands, a fresh box of doughnuts.

--

Geoff Collins could not believe it. It was just before third period, and he'd forgotten his locker combination. Already.

He kept trying, giving in a sigh after a number of failed attempts. What if someone saw? That would seriously hurt his rep, or worse. And _rep_? Great, now he was being cocky. Something was wrong with him today, and he didn't know what.

For one thing, he wasn't one to forget his locker combination.

He was _the_ Geoff Collins after all; a good student, the nicest guy at school, and star quarterback enough that he had most of the female population and then some, kneeling at his feet.

And there he was, struggling to open his locker, and almost two minutes late for third period.

Plus, he was being cocky again. Geoff couldn't remember the last time that happened.

"This is a first," suddenly, Cody, four inches shorter, appeared by his side. He smiled. He and Cody went way back, so far back that when they first met they were both in diapers. Never mind the fact they didn't actually become friends 'til the third grade. And that while Geoff loved sports, Cody wasn't much good at it. He got along with all his football buddies, and he was loyal. Maybe a bit too obsessed with impressing the ladies (which didn't work out most of the time), but still, loyal.

Geoff forced a smile. "Yeah."

Luckily and for some reason, Cody remembered his combination, and yanked it open.

The density in the hallways were slowly decreasing; People liked to be late, but no one liked the two-week detention they got when they were five minutes late.

He hurried, grabbing his stuff out then slamming his locker shut. Cody had skipped ahead, but he never really blamed him. He cared more then he did.

It was right then, when he was just starting his way to third period, when _she_ ran past, almost causing him to lose balance, and his rep, again, if anyone saw. Not that he cared much anyway.

Geoff had caught a glimpse. She was blonde, had nice eyes, and almost knocked the papers right out his hands. He'd never seen her before, as far as he knew. And maybe, that was the very reason why she was stuck in his head for the rest of the day.

--

Fourth period, he sat with his football buddies for lunch. Owen, DJ, Michael, and Johnny W. Plus Cody. Between their slight musings of discussing the assets of celebrities pre- and after plastic surgery, one of them, he forgot who, brought it up,

"Hey, did you guys see her yet?"

"Oh, yeah. I mean I _heard_ her hair was like that naturally, but man, I never even knew her hair was that _blonde_…" Geoff perked up, trying to make it seem a sort of, _oh really? That's interesting_, sort of way.

Cody sipped his juicebox, but no one really minded. "Tell me about it. The last time I saw her, she had five piercings and dyed her hair purple."

"You're kidding. Why the sudden change? Stuff like this doesn't just happen."

Geoff excused himself from the table.

--

On his way home, he picked up his mom's dry cleaning as promised, and pretended it didn't bother him. He jerked his key into the lock, and walked in, dropping his stuff by the entrance with a loud thud.

Time goes a lot slower when you don't know what's going on,

He realized, watching the clock for a good five minutes. It was as if nothing had moved. Geoff shrugged it off and switched on the TV, flipping through the channels. He never watched the news, he noticed when he stopped at that network. It was usually just sports. Or the talk-shows, where they tried too hard to be funny. Well, he laughed anyway.

"Just after being arrested again, two criminals escaped last night with still at this time, no leads," announced his television, well, the lady on his television; Geoff watched casually, "On the same night, a local diamond store was robbed, and reports claim they're assuming both cases are obviously connected. If you have any information regarding either of these or both, please call."

Geoff switched it off, and decided to make himself a sandwich.

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**Still debating whether to continue this or not. Hope you guys liked. (: **

**Click on the purple button for me. (Y) xD**


	2. I: A Flash of Red

**YES, I updated. And thanks so much for the reviews for the last chap, you! Yes, YOU!**

**Oh, and just incase anyone's wondering-I've seen another superheroes fic around a few times, and just so you know, based on the small bit I've read of that one, THIS WILL BE NOTHING LIKE IT. That is based on Heroes, which I gotta say, rocks by the way (but it'd be impossible for me to live up to something like that). This is different. **

**Things will start to make sense as we continue along, but I don't think this is too hard to understand so far.**

**Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own TDI.**

* * *

Izzy knew she was the fastest thing alive. 'Thing', because she definitely wasn't human. What she could do was nearly impossible, and the way she acted usually couldn't be classified as normal behavior either. She'd once mused on the thought she'd come from outer space, far beyond at some alien planet completely indefinite from humankind. Whatever, put aside all that, the point is, she was _fast_.

Which meant she had no problem, whatsoever, playing with the cops a little during her little midnight break-in. The second the glass shattered they arrived at the scene, ready with guns pointed to the nonexistent and everything. A tad late, perhaps-Izzy fled just two tenths of a second prior.

They shook their heads, decided it must've been some really good hallucination (or a bird, who might've crashed right through), and called it a night, without investigating further.

Three full seconds later, she crashed into the room, dropping onto the couch and holding up the loot, three-bag tons heavy.

He was cooking dinner when he finally looked up. She could smell the broccoli soup coming from the next room. Izzy perked up. She loved broccoli soup.

The theatre was quiet. Well, of course it would be, just after 12am in the morning. The fact it hadn't been visited in years and the fact they were far underground helped, too. There was nothing to worry about, yet lately she'd been having doubts.

"They'll find us," she told him once, her eyes still fixed at the TV they'd stolen. Izzy was quite amazed they had cable down there, and still was, finding herself flicking through channels again, that day. Well, it was a serious matter, at least she thought so, but he didn't seem as concerned.

Her partner rolled her eyes and made his way over, offering the pot of broccoli soup, in exchange for the 'loot'-three cans of tuna fish, and a few beers.

She smirked, slurping her uber-late dinner and watching as he felt inside the bags. "Told you I could handle robbing the grocery all by myself."

"I always believed in ya, Izz," Duncan laughed, reading the back nutrition sections for the heck of it. "By the way, did you see the-"

A loud bang took place upstairs, as if something had fallen, with several footsteps following. He told her it was nothing, but there was more to it-and whatever it was, it kept her awake all night.

* * *

She could feel him staring. At the back of her head, wishing oh-so-badly she'd look back and catch him. Well, he'd have plenty explaining to do if she did, but he liked her eyes. He wouldn't mind at all if they narrowed into a glare. He wouldn't even mind if she beat him up (which, she might add, she was completely capable of).

His name sat at the tip of her tongue. She crouched over her desk and twirled a pencil effortlessly between her fingers. Geoff Collins, huh? What'd he find so special about _her_?

* * *

Blonde. How could her hair be so blonde?

Cody was right. It was supposed to be purple. But it was blonde. And the piercings? Where did _they_ magically disappear off to?

And to think, he didn't even know her name.

Stupid.

Geoff tore his eyes away from the back of her head, and tried to pay attention to the lesson. Well, he'd already missed half of it. He'd probably end up asking Cody what happened during the time he was distracted, anyway.

The bell rang. Most everyone scrambled out of their seats and flew out the door. Except her. For some crazy reason she still sat there, still twirling her pencil. He didn't mean to make her drop it; all he meant was to touch her shoulder.

She spun around and her eyes narrowed into a glare. Wasn't this sort of what he wanted, two minutes ago?

"I'd like my pencil back," she spat out once he picked it up.

He shrugged, thinking for a bit before handing it back. "Fine with me."

"Good," and she made off, then stopped at the doorway. "Well, do you want it?"

Raised eyebrow. His mouth felt dry. "Want what?"

"My number."

"Oh." Geoff was in awe as she scribbled it onto a random sheet of paper. He couldn't remember whether his mouth was hung open the whole time or not, but he still felt pretty stupid after.

"But only call during emergencies." Just when he was about what she meant, or what her name was when he finally remembered, she'd already walked out, leaving him to his own thoughts.

* * *

General Maclean found himself smirking when two of his gophers burst into the room. He spun himself around in 'his chair' to face them, and as if perfectly rehearsed, asked, "Take a seat. Have some tea. Now tell me, _what happened_? _What did you hear_? And by the way, the private washrooms ran out of toilet paper. Do you…_mind_…?"

Gopher One swallowed. "Not at all, sir."

In a flash he was out, grateful he was now at least a few thirty feet from the boss.

"Guess that leaves you and me now, isn't that right, _Bobby_?" Gopher Two swallowed, too. Harder. Part of him was tempted to correct Maclean, and tell him his name was actually Fred.

He laughed, an evil, sinister laugh, then leaned back, throwing his legs onto his desk, one of those glossy big-shot kinds. "You're a dead man if you leave a single detail out…"

Fred scrambled a bit and his seat, then tried to regain his cool, "They're the same."

Maclean cocked his head sideways and rubbed his chin.

"Person, I mean. Before Jimmy left, he shot some quick footage of the scene-360 degrees. He never realized it before, until he played it back once he got home. And well, when he slowed the tape a real lot, he caught a glimpse of _red_ hair."

"Is that all?"

He shook his head. "Jim slowed it about a few hundred times more, and he was sure that it-I mean she yelled 'Suckers!' at him…oh, and he told me to tell ya one of his thoughts-wasn't that chick who broke out with her partner a few days ago some redhead too?"

Something struck. "Did he mention which way it was heading?"

"West, sir."

Maclean shot up, adjusting his tie and pacing out the room, Fred trailing agitatedly behind. "Gather a group and search out every inch West-Queen's Park, Keningston Market, any small neighborhoods nearby, the Bathurst Street Theatre…they couldn't have gone far."

Fred swore to do what he was told, "Got it."

I mean, what other choice did the guy have?

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**R&R. **

**My next update will most probably be STHD, just because.**


	3. I: Free, Determined, and Trapped

**THIRD CHAPTER. Woo-hoo!**

**Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this one as much I enjoyed writing it. So, yeah, enjoy. xD**

**...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own TDI.**

* * *

_"The world is quiet here.."_

"This place really it?" Commander Hatchet snickered, sticking his nose up in the air as he walked into the old theatre, looking more like some abandoned ghost-town if anything. The rest followed hesitantly, trailing a few metres behind with flashlights. He looked over to Fred, the one who was assigned to gather the group over to the area.

The startled gopher, taken by surprise, quickly nodded. "I'm positive," he replied, even though he really wasn't.

Jimmy shot him a look, then added, "Yeah, there hasn't been a show in over twenty years. It's kind of deserted now, I guess you can say."

'Kind of' was an underestimate. It was definite. The room had a strange presence to it, the feeling you got as if someone else was there, but really wasn't. Shadows bounced off their flashlights, dancing upon the walls in sudden motions. A few of them pointed theirs to the stage, where several cobwebs and collections of dust were put on display.

Another voice piped up, hands in his pocket with a slight frown: "My mom used to take me here when I was just a little kid."

"You saw that play about lions in the streets, didn't you, Jack? I think you told me about that once."

He smirked. "Yeah, to tell you the truth, the storyline was pretty whack. Mom woulda never taken me if she knew it was about-"

Hatchet growled. "_Focus_, soldiers."

No one messed with the commander. Especially one as intimidating at first glance as Commander Hatchet, the respected chief with a strange fetish for catering. It's a _side job_, Maclean whispered the second his back was turned. The group turned mad when they heard this, and when someone revealed he also wore this pink, _frilly_ apron while he worked…

Not that anyone dared bring it up.

Well. "Sorry, sir, but I really can't take you seriously without that apron of yours on-"

It was awfully hard to resist, though.

"What you say?" Hatchet stomped towards the unlucky man, grabbing hard grip of his collar. When they heard the sound of a flash moving approximately two and a half miles a minute, feeling further away each second they listened, everyone froze.

Eventually it was over, and then Commander Hatchet shoved him to the ground with a grunt. "Better watch what you say next time, a'right?"

He told the rest of them to stay and check every inch of the old theatre, then muttered a few muffled words as he charged out of the building.

--

Coach Lewis, garbed in a baggy green sweatshirt on a sunny day in September, blew his whistle so hard he nearly shot up. His sideburns, anyway. "You there, Anderson! Pass the goddamn ball already!"

Anderson fumbled with the ball, before he oblige-fully passed it to Geoff, who smacked past one of his buddies for a touchdown. She was still the center-point in his mind when he performed that play. Since that day, she always had been. The crowd burst into wild cheers, forgetting this wasn't an actual game (officially, anyway) and it was merely just tryouts.

Geoff grinned, then went on to slap sweaty high-fives with potential future teammates before taking a seat by the sidelines, snagging a bottle of Gatorade.

"Nicely played, Collins," Coach slumped into the space next to him, then also drew a soda from the cooler. "Consider yourself automatically on the team."

The teenager boy beamed. This would be his fourth year, starting out as a freshman then making his way up to an upperclassman. The rest of the guys within earshot pumped their fists into the air and gave him a few good slaps on the back. Owen offered him a food coupon to Arby's (as hard as it was), and DJ proposed a speech, bursting into tears when he concluded. So maybe it wasn't much of a surprise, but Geoff was stoked. Maybe he'd even throw a party that weekend.

This went forth for another ten minutes. York High's (official, as of ten minutes ago) senior quarterback, they prematurely announced, was going to lead them to the provincial finals. It was too much. He didn't deserve this.

And, from the corner of his eye, he found her, probably walking home from the school's library, carrying a stack of notebooks in her arms. For a second, he thought he saw the tiniest of a smile, curved on her lips, but then he seriously doubted it.

He wouldn't be able to handle that.

--

They ran. Well actually, _she_ ran, while _he_ held onto her for dear life as she ran two and a half miles per minute.

Needless to say, it didn't take long to get there, wherever they were.

"We're here," she said bluntly, while he made her slow down so he could get a better look at wherever they were.

His eyes widened and his piercings nearly popped right off.

"W-wow."

--

The next day at school, Geoff squeezed past the crowds of fan-girls and big football fans alike, and found Cody sitting at their usual table, demandings five bucks from everyone who asked to sit at the star's 'usual' seat. Geoff frowned, wanting his space.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked his best friend since third grade.

"Sure." Thankfully, the people had gone, resuming to their own business for that time being.

Geoff planted his two feet firmly onto the cafeteria floor, then took a deep breath. "I'm a mess."

"And I'm Pamela Anderson."

This conversation would be harder than he thought.

"Look, can you-" She chose this moment to walk by, then switch to a light jog as she left through the cafeteria doors. His first instinct was to follow her. He remembered the day he got her number. He had her on speed dial a few seconds after. Maybe he would call her, tell her to slow down and maybe they could go walk. Together.

"I'll be back," Geoff announced, finally. "You think you can swing by my place later and drop off the tape recordings of Mr. G's history lesson last Wednesday?"

Cody nodded, sipping his juice-box, like usual. "Uh, sure. I guess."

"Thanks," and he took off after her faster a bunch of criminals being chased by the investigators.

Well, not exactly.

--

"You're bluffing, soldier. _Every_inch of that rathole? Now, I find that hard to believe."

From left to right-Jimmy, Jackson, Fredrick, Bobby, and Frank. Wedged between Jack and the just-recently-hired Frank Simmons, Fred found himself in a most uncomfortable position, forced to stare right into the sharp eyes of Commander Hatchet. Yep, most uncomfortable indeed.

Chris Maclean chuckled, sitting at his desk watching carefully. How could he find this _funny? _Fredrick thought, at the same time glancing towards the clock, the shorthand fixed at three.

"They're gone, sir," he meant to speak up, but it ended up a whisper. A brief silence followed, breaking through the tension, then building it up all over again.

He cleared his throat, then went for the kill-"However, we collected several traces of evidence that prove _someone_ was living there, quite recently."

The commander blinked. "Well. That wasn't clearly what I was expecting. Show us that evidence immediately."

Fred nodded towards Jimmy, who went to claim his briefcase sitting at the table by the door. He unlocked it, revealing plastic bags of 'the evidence' piled up, then explained each piece. "Here, we have a toothbrush," he lifted it up so the others could see. "We're planning to run by some DNA samples later.

"…a few empty cans of tuna fish we found lying around the place…" A few nods.

Jimmy took a deep breath. "And a single strand of bright _red_ hair."

After that, no one knew what to say. For a few minutes, they all just remained there, thinking to themselves, trying to process what that could mean even when all of them knew the answer right away.

Maclean chose to break that silence. "I think we've got ourselves a lead."

--

Geoff was lost. It took him awhile to figure that out.

"I'm lost," he said to no one, a worried expression replacing his usual features. There he was, standing on an isolated street, because he swore, he saw her go _left_.

Or was it right?

He took another good look around. "I'm lost," he repeated, because it was the one another thing he couldn't get out of his head.

--

"You're trespassing, you idiot."

Geoff didn't mean to walk right into an alleyway. With about fifteen punks gathering around him in a circle, pushing up their sleeves and holding out their fists. It also took him awhile to realize he was _trapped_.

The rest was a blur. They threw punches, he got a few good shots himself. The last thing he remembers was that he was knocked to the ground out cold, and then he hears a voice. Then suddenly, it's just him, in an enclosed white space, wondering where he is.

Sometime before he also remembers dialing her number, but he isn't certain if he was dreaming or not. All he knows for sure is that he was knocked to the ground, and something was about to happen. Something big.

* * *

**I love cliffies, don't you?**

**Anyway, this arc's pretty much halfway done. Probably two more chapters after this, hopefully longer than the last three. xD**

**R&R, guys!**


	4. I: York High

**'s been awhile, huh?**

**This is ... probably the longest I've written in a seriously long time. Hope you guys enjoy! ;) **

**And let me remind you, this is AU. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own TDI. If I did, I probably wouldn't be writing this.**

* * *

_"Once you eliminate the impossible, you will discover the truth..."_

When he woke up, he was still dreaming.

Or so he thought.

Geoff walked down a white hallway, trembling down to his toes. His current location was unclear, and there wasn't going to be much to figure out for the time being. All he knew was this – he had to escape somehow.

_Where am I?_

His head spun, unknowingly examining every, distinctive inch of a place with neither entrances nor exits. No windows or vague cracks in the ceiling. Just colorless imaginary that couldn't possibly be real – or could it? In fact he considered it to be the complete opposite – surreal, and --

Impossible.

The only sounds came from when he made his way down to nowhere, the _tap-tap-tap_ his runners made as he paced around for a bit then stopped, to think.

A break would do him good, perhaps.

… He took a seat and cautiously leaned back over the chair's backrest, his fingers intertwined over his knees.

Geoff froze in place, as he contemplated his circumstances over.

There were many – nearly twenty of them, all of a sudden (he hadn't realized before, but he was certain they hadn't been there when he last checked) positioned in an arched line. Some were covered in layers of dust, as if they hadn't been used in years or at _all_…

But what could this all mean? Chairs? Of all other things that could've shown up instead and been of better use – like an explanation, or a way out – Geoff was given _chairs._ He thought about it for a moment -- or as much as one could with a grave need for aspirin – and came up blank. He knew nothing. And yet here he was, for some reason, put in this particular situation. Then hastily, he felt a shock through his body, stunning every nerve. He fell to his knees.

…then he woke up.

Or maybe he'd been awake this whole time.

--

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes into a place that felt much closer to home, was _her_.

She pressed a damp cloth onto his forehead, her expression unchanged when she discovered he had finally come to. He continued to stare, his mind filled with questions that he figured he wouldn't be able to answer for himself all at once. Considering this for a moment, he opened his mouth to ask his first.

The words got stuck in his throat, and he nearly had to choke them out, one by one, "Who are you?"

A pause. "Bridgette Ryerson," she informed, as if rehearsed many times before. Then came the anticipated silence, as he briefly scanned his surroundings, and breathed in a smell so familiar. Last night's leftover pasta. The coffee he brewed this morning still lingered in the air. And from the corner of his eye he found the display of photographs of him and his siblings that, would normally be arranged in the family room.

"Alright." Both parties grew tense. Even Bridgette, who on every other day would be so…composed. The second question came more naturally, yet the procedure was the same – the words would come slowly, even when he knew exactly what he wanted to say. "Next, what are you doing in my house?"

Her face flushed for a moment, but in a second she was herself again, or at least came up with a good enough impression. "I let myself in. People say I have a talent with locks."

Geoff wasn't sure whether to be relieved or troubled by this statement.

She went on. "Th-then I brought you in, laid you over on the couch here, and attended to your wounds. Your injuries weren't anything too serious, but I thought…"

"How did you find me?"

There it was, the question she'd been dreading yet convinced was going to be brought up. Bridgette chewed on her lower lip, racking her brain for a response that wouldn't counter an infinite amount of other questions. She sighed, giving in. Perhaps he deserved to know. "I read your thoughts."

He froze, stunned. "Y-you read my thoughts."

"I had this meeting earlier. It's cancelled now, but-" Hesitantly, she kept going, recalling the events that had led up to this, "I took a detour to order some doughnuts. Anyway, they must've been pretty mad that I was a little over an hour late, 'coz when I got there, a bunch of 'em were knocked out cold. Including…well, _you_."

Inwardly, he prayed she wouldn't sidetrack her story then ask him what he was doing there in the first place. She didn't, gazing upon the farthest window.

"Sometime in between, I received two signals that _someone_needed me right then," Bridgette played with a loose strand of blonde hair, twirling it between her fingers. "The first was a missed call. Unknown number. It meant nothing until I heard the second one…your voice. Taking over my brain."

Geoff thought it over for a bit – was he still dreaming? It all still seemed surreal to him, and even when she was speaking of _him_, he was still oblivious as to how he fit into this mess.

"What'd I say?" he asked, breathing steadily.

"I forgot," she replied, shrugging like it was no big deal. And then her story was over. She got up, fixing her things on the table in front.

"You're not like everyone else, are you?" He didn't think this one over. He simply just said it, wanting an answer.

She blinked twice, freezing in place. "What do you mean?" she cornered him with, even when she knew perfectly what he meant.

"You 'read my thoughts'? Something tells me you don't hear things like _that_ everyday."

"This conversation's getting hand," she murmured bitterly, staring with cold eyes, "You already know too much." Stuffing the last item into her sling bag, she ran for the door, only to be stopped by the door already opening for her.

A familiar voice entered the room, slamming the door behind him. "I brought the tapes like you wanted, man. They're each fifteen minutes long, sorry 'bout that. Mr. D just wouldn't shut up. But you would know, right-"

Cody stopped dead at his tracks, noticing the attractive girl standing astoundingly in front of him. He then looked over to Geoff, who had his shirt off while she'd attended to his wounds. Well of course, having just walked into the scene less than a minute ago, Cody was totally unaware of what…had _really_ taken place here.

"Sh-should I go?" he questioned, shaking. His teenage male hormones were hastily getting the better of him.

Bridgette responded quickly, shoving him aside and making for the door a second time. "I was just leaving." The door opened again then slammed shut, the sound echoing off the walls.

Geoff reacted to this instantly, getting up first, his palms pressed against the edge of the couch. "I'm going after her. There's one more thing I have to ask."

He reached for the door on one leg, fixing his belt, when Cody picked his shirt off the floor and threw it at him.

"I tried that once, running across the street half-naked. Yeah, the old lady next door came after me with a golf club. I think you're going to need this."

--

Eventually he caught up to her, four kilometers later. He grabbed onto her by the arm, pulling her closer. She skidded backwards, taken off balance. When she opened her eyes, it was his she saw, begging for answers. She knew.

"What do you want," Bridgette muttered under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

"Answers," he replied, just as she'd suspected. "I had a dream. Not last night. In fact, it was just a few hours ago. Started when one of your buddies knocked me out cold. Thought you might be able to explain this for me."

_A dream? _She did not like where this was heading one bit.

Geoff went on. "White walls, roughly twenty chairs…does this sound familiar to you?"

She couldn't take this; as the memories from the incident of three months ago came flooding though, she broke free, sprinting in the other direction. Although it wasn't him she was trying to run away from – it was herself.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_-" she hollered between the tears that came with the memories everytime.

--

They tested the DNA samples.

It was the results they'd been hoping for – the traces left on the toothbrush bristles were definitely those of nineteen year-old Duncan's Hughes', and the single strand of bright red hair clearly belonged to 'Izzy' (her surname could not be identified), no tests necessary.

Satisfied with this, Maclean handed the details to his team, instructing them to investigate the two delinquents further.

"I want you to find anything relevant. If you could find any possibilities as to where they may be hiding, even better. I expect a full-thorough report by six thirty," he offered his trademark smile, one that often spoke for itself, _Otherwise I predict a rather _drastic_drop in your next paycheck, hmm?_

Needless to say, they often did what they were told.

--

She laid, sprawled across the crass, next to the tree they had met.

He was a junior then, and she was the sophomore with a rough past. It was his first day at school, and he arrived on campus, obviously making a big impression. Being twenty minutes early, he leaned back against a random tree, relaxing with a small smirk on his face.

"Hey!" Bridgette heard her own voice, ring in her ears like it had that fateful day. "Are you new here? 'coz everyone else knows this is my tree."

She'd been nature girl back then, spending the majority of her breaks with her father's binoculars pressed over her eyes, pointed towards the sky or other sites of interest. Although she hated to admit it, she still did once in awhile, despite everything else about her that had changed, or at least had the cunning passion of a true environmentalist still lingering somewhere in her heart.

The guy had simply smiled, looking up to face her through the sun, "Really. Well, sorry to say this but, I don't see _anyone's_ name sharpie'd onto _this_ big guy right here." He jerked a thumb towards the tree.

Her cheeks had turned red. "That's not stopping me. This tree isn't mine because I called it, or saw it first or some other stupid reason you may assume I may be using against you, but it's mine because I spend time with everyday, and I care for it and sometimes I even talk to it, regardless of what everyone else thinks, okay?" She concluded, drawing an extra breath.

He looked at her for a smile, his expression unchanged until his smirk grew wider, "I like you," he admitted without shame, talking about the unchanged passion she shared for this very tree, "Nice to meet you, Bridgette."

She never really understood how he'd known her name before she even got the change to introduce herself, until today, when she took another look at her tree, two years later. Turns out, she _had_ sharpie'd her name, right across the middle of the cherry bark.

--

Fred walked into his boss' office a few minutes before six thirty, the papers held tightly in his right hand. With a nervous smile, he placed them on his desk, then slid them down where he was sure to notice them.

Maclean looked up from what he'd been doing, noticing the papers.

"And right on time too," he meant his watch, apparently set three minutes early 'like it always was'. "Guess you can look forward to a proper salary next week, eh?"

The gopher nodded, still sweating bullets through his collar.

His boss scanned over the reports, his eyes widening as they hovered over the words 'York High'. He ordered the team to have the school investigated immediately.

--

Bridgette needed a walk. Yes, a walk would do her good. …she hoped.

Instead of doing rounds about the neighborhood, where everyone would be exposed to her shame, she decided to sneak into the _east_wing of her highschool, where she was least likely to bump into anyone she knew after normal school hours.

The halls were bare -- just like she'd expected -- without a single person in sight. She wandered up and down the corridors several times, trying to erase some pressure, when she decided to stop to catch her breath. Her hands pushed down on her knees, she inhaled then exhaled, until all of a sudden something occurred to her.

She wasn't alone.

With her head held low, she crept over each room, pressing her ear against every door trying to figure out where the sounds were coming from.

Finally, as she reached room 209…

"They'll find us, I know it! I've had the same feeling since we got here, and-"

"Relax. Tell me, what are the chances that…" The sentence trailed into a whisper, barely audible for her to make out.

Bridgette froze, hearing the second voice.

It was a voice she knew all too well.

* * *

**One more chapter to go, then the first arc will be finished. (Y)**

**Still not much of the epic superhero stuff, since I'm still trying to figure a few things out. Hope you guys enjoyed though. :-)**

**& Reviews would be awesome, they inspire me to write. :)**

**- Trish**


	5. I: Shattered

**So I've been dead lately. Sorry 'bout that. :)**

**Pretty vague chapter, but should explain some. Hope you guys like it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own TDI.**

* * *

_Three months had come and gone, since the day she'd woken up early due to an unsettling jolt in her stomach. The coffee was stale because she kept forgetting to make some of the new tin she'd purchased over two weeks ago. Her head spun and she felt kind of wasted. _Oh_, that couldn't be good._

_She threw herself out of bed and headed towards the bathroom, dragging her feet across the worn carpet. There, Bridgette found herself in the very position she dreaded – staring face to face into a pair of distant green eyes. Without thinking she ran her fingers through and through the messy dyed heap she shamefully kept layered on her own head. She hated it now. She hated her reckless sixteen year-old self for dying her hair deep purple to begin with. _

_Taped onto her mirror was a photograph from ten years ago. Her mother had run around the whole park five times looking for someone to take it. Finally, the lenses focused in, catching all three faces in a single shot. _

_Bridgette turned away. These were dangerous places indeed. Eventually they led to the memories that followed soon after. Yet she still remembers the exact words printed onto the front page of the newspaper her father had read that one fateful morning. _'Woman, 33, instantly killed on Highway 104'_. The night of the incident was her father's birthday. She remembers the two of them sitting in the kitchen, waiting for her to come home so they could all blow candles together. He hadn't moved a single inch all night, and only left the table in the afternoon to retrieve Sunday's paper. _

_Lydia Ryerson died with a small wrapped package in her arms, with a note that read _'Happy Birthday, Joe'_. She'd just gone out to purchase his present, and was hit by a speeding car on her way home. Bridgette considered the absurdity of this. The police had it mailed. Her father hadn't opened it since, she recalled slowly. _

_Her apartment felt colder than usual. The bare linoleum floor felt like it could fall apart at any second. How long had she been living on her own now? One year? Almost two? She'd run away what seemed ages ago when her father hadn't come home from his 'business trip', finding herself standing on _his_ doorstep. It was either that or be damned to a stray asylum for the rest of her teenage forever. _

"_I need a place to stay for a few weeks," she informed, with her luggage already in hand and her hair severely damp from the rain._

_At first he looked at her skeptically. But he wouldn't need her reason right away. He would help her at any cost. That was just the way things went. "Sure," he agreed, already reaching for her second piece of luggage. _

_Then he helped her find this apartment. Made some sort of deal with the owner and got her a half-priced discount rate. Bridgette had moved in right away. _

_She broke away from her thoughts. _

_When _he_ called, she had just uncapped the toothpaste and had her toothbrush just several inches away from her teeth. "Hello?" Bridgette murmured into the phone, kind of irritated. _

"_Can you meet me in twenty minutes?" Most of their conversations often started with bluntness, she mused. _

"_Sure" -- as she was already reaching for her favorite ripped pair of jeans, "Where?"_

"_Is outside your apartment building okay?"_

_A scoff. "Are the rest of the guys coming? You said we were going to egg Wychers's place later."_

_From the other end, she could picture him shaking his head. "No, just the two of us."_

"_Just the two of us," Bridgette repeated, partly because it sounded ridiculous and it wasn't what she was expecting. "That's fine. Though is there any particular reason as to why you-"_

"_Listen, just get down here and meet me, alright?" He'd raised his tone, but he didn't scare her. _

"_Sheesh. Fine." She'd rolled her eyes. _

"_Great, see you soon."_

_

* * *

_

**Present Day**

She hadn't meant to cry. She thought she was stronger than that.

But it had been so long. How could she not? Bridgette drew backwards, then stepped in again closer, peering into the room through the rectangular glass window. She stared. She only meant to peek for a second, but as she looked, her eyes refused to tear themselves away. It was him alright. There was no doubt about it.

The second figure in the room had ludicrous curly red hair that fell lower than her waist. She'd never seen her before, but felt as if she had the right to know who she was.

And irrevocably, she hadn't meant for them to see her yet at the same time, she kind of hoped they would. Yet they did eventually, staring back with anxious faces.

Bridgette ducked, despite herself, hurrying down the corridor. As the likely consequences struck her, she quickened her pace. In a split second, however, she stopped, deciding she couldn't possibly keep going like this.

The hallways were dark, and she remained there alone. How many times had she felt like this now? The feeling was all too familiar. Eventually _he_ caught up to her, putting her hands together firmly behind her back.

"When you told me we'd meet again someday, I didn't think it'd be under these circumstances," the words came with some satisfaction, even as he tied the rope around wrists.

"Neither did I," his words came a little more painfully. But Bridgette swore, in between Duncan's ruthlessness, she heard a trace of sympathy for the both of them.

* * *

Cody was sitting at the Collins' dining table by himself eating a plate of leftover pasta when Geoff came barging into the room carrying a million dollars. Only he wasn't a million dollars. Or anything, actually.

"I lost her," York High's supposed star quarterback said solemnly, watching slightly as his best friend's eyes widened. He dropped his fork with a loud _clang_ to show he was listening. "She went west. It's embarrassing. After that I didn't have enough gut to go after her. Can you believe it? I just make the school football team and _look what happens_!"

Being the great friend he was, Cody enlightened that the pasta was kind of dry. Geoff gave in a sigh, holding the sides of his own head with both hands. He waited. He considered his options. He waited some more. Before deciding-

"I'll be back." He reached for the door.

"Again?" the brunet's voice cracked in disbelief. The blond nodded, sticking his head out halfway out the door.

Cody thought it over for a few minutes. "Well I'm guessing this time you're gonna want some company?"

There was no reply, as Geoff was probably down the street by then, but being the great friend he was, Cody ran after him anyway.

* * *

The I.I.B.I. Corp had the school surrounded. While the fuming passerby hollered and repeatedly questioned what gave them authority to do such, Commander Hatchet and his crew continued to set up a secure electric shield around the area. No one was permitted to enter, and no one was permitted to leave. This gave everyone yet another reason to fuss over.

The cheerleaders complained from the inward side of the hazardous fence, claiming they were in the middle of tryouts, and preferred to know they'd all be able to go home after they were through with their 'sis boom bah's.

"Relax, folks," barked Maclean, squeezing his way through the crowd to dictate. "These precautions are merely necessary. We're pretty sure there are two juvenile criminals in that very building, but stay calm. As soon as we catch those guys, we'll clear the area ASAP. Okay? Great. Now shoo."

The cheerleaders paled. Everyone else remained exactly where they were.

He walked away, paying no mind to the fact that clearly no one was satisfied. "How are we doing?" he asked his warden, the makings of his trademark smile covering nearly half his face.

Hatchet grunted. "We're doin' alright. Everything's almost set up, and now all we've gotta do is wait."

"Perfect," replied Maclean, flashing his impossibly white set of teeth, as he gazed over at York High, the same place he'd gone to highschool just twenty years before.

* * *

Geoff Collins could not believe it.

He made his way through the commotion, stopping dead at his tracks as he noticed the electric shield. And so he waited. And considered his options. Were there really any other options?

His blundering thoughts drowned out the voices calling out for him, the "Hold on buddy, I'm almost there!" 's from Cody almost a kilometre away, and the gophers of I.I.B.I. Corp, assigned to a strange and totally unrelated task, trying everything they could in their power to hold him back.

Nothing could hold him back.

With his eyes already ahead of him, he went for the shield, one foot springing his whole body from the ground, over ten feet up. And he made it, because at that very moment, the girl who probably hated his guts was on his mind.

* * *

_How did we get here? _That was the one thing they wanted to know, standing on the same rooftop as an armed criminal at 2am in the morning. Much to their dismay their memory of the events leading up to this didn't help explain any of it. The situation seemed obscure, and they all just wanted to go home and sleep.

Pfft, _that_ wasn't happening anytime soon. At the very least it didn't even seem like it.

He knew he'd messed up. Somewhere along the way, he was leaving his tracks behind and he wouldn't be able to have them covered. If he'd only done things differently or done nothing at all from the very beginning, maybe none of this would've even come _close_ to happening. The prisoners would've still escaped, but at least then he'd have nothing to do with what came after. Oh, who was he kidding?

Stupid. It described his feelings perfectly.

The punk grinned. He shot a bullet into the sky, the girl held firm in his other arm, and they all watched as the sparks flew. Geoff took a step back. "Hmph."

He couldn't bring himself to run, eyeing the girl and waiting and considering his options. Not under these circumstances. _How did we get here? _They'd tried to stop thinking that, but that was just as impossible.

All of a sudden the helicopters came, circling the area they were glued to, focusing their lights toward him. Their trance broke slightly, but not by much.

Duncan seemed worried. At first, until he began to laugh out of the blue, leaving the officers stunned.

"A shame it had to end this way, huh?" His statement clung, while he slowly took a step backwards, off the building, into thin air.

* * *

**Three months ago**

_They did meet up, twenty minutes after Bridgette threw on a T-shirt and took the stairs because the elevator was out of order like it'd always been, in front of her tattered apartment building. _

_She found him, leaning against the fence, his eyes fixed towards the sky._

"_Hey."_

"_Hey." Duncan muttered back. His voice was different than it had ever been, yet she couldn't place her finger on 'how'. She inched closer to him, not feeling blunt at all. _

_Bridgette challenged him to face her. "What's up?"_

_Her question struck something, she could tell. He looked away. Part of her wished she could read his thoughts, that she could take away his pain and suffer for the both of them. She owed him enough. _

"_Seriously. Want to go walk someplace?"_

_He looked at his feet. "Actually, I've got somewhere I need to be right now."_

_She thought it over. _No_._

_Duncan said it after a beat. "Juvey," he went on, "The cops found out. About the drug deals. About everything. They're after me. I figured I might as well save them the trouble and turn myself in before I get into further shit._

"_So yeah, I'll be going now. Hope you don't mind. Feel free to visit me at Cell 23 anytime. And take care of yourself this time, won't you, Bee?" This sounded more like him, but she didn't like one bit of it._

"_No." Bridgette grasped onto his arm as he drew away, with no intentions of ever letting go. He pulled her into his arms. She sobbed into his neck, feeling a different set of tears intertwine with her own. Time went on without them. She felt like she was flying. She felt like she could die here. She felt complete yet completely empty. _

_She jerked up, finding herself under the covers of her own bed, still in the same t-shirt with jeans get-up she remembers herself in. Chills went up her spine. Bridgette glanced over to the window – wide open. The curtains blew with the wind that passed through them. _

_Wasted. There was that feeling again. Wasted and left alone, in a city of thousands of people she didn't know. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall apart. _

_And that, strangely enough, was when she dreamt of white walls and roughly twenty chairs. _

* * *

**So I lied. One more chapter to get this first arc wrapped up. :)**

**Hope you guys enjoyed! Haven't updated lately, so I don't expect many reviews on this at all, but I'd seriously appreciate it if you do. **

**And kudos to anyone who can guess what 'I.I.B.I. Corp' stands for. Hint: It has something to do with idiots.**

**Review with your guesses. :)**


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